


I Might Not Stop this World from Turning

by k2b



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, F/M, Romance, Set During Season One, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k2b/pseuds/k2b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity and Oliver find themselves in trouble and it leads to a re-examining of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Might Not Stop this World from Turning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer – I own neither Arrow nor the title (which are lyrics to a song by OpShop). Also there's a quote from The Princess Bride held within.

**//**

Oliver hits the packed earth floor hard considering he is tied hand and foot as well as blindfolded. The floor isn't a great distance from the landing he's been pushed from – no more than a couple of feet – but it is disorientating given that was dark behind the blindfold.

Less than a second after he goes down – before he has time to move – there is a startled cry and something heavy lands on him. Felicity. Her elbow digs into his stomach enough to wind him, but that's no more than a moment's discomfort that can be worked through and he's on his feet, feeling a bit bad that it dislodges her to the ground.

He dives for the door but his shoulder meets hard metal as it is slammed shut and bolted from the other side. He snarls and tosses himself at the door once for good measure it doesn't budge and he only just manages to catch his balance before he topples on to Felicity.

“Oliver?” There's genuine fright in her tone, which is hardly surprising given the circumstances. She's still on the floor given the direction her voice. “Oliver. It's a blindfold right? I can't see.”

“I think it might be dark, hang on for a second.”

“Not going anywhere.” There's a little more strength in her voice and his lips quirk at her attempt at humour. He hears a slight shuffling and assumes she trying to sit up.

It only takes second for him to break the zip tie on his wrists and rip his blindfold off. He'd have done it sooner but with guns at both his head and Felicity's he hadn't wanted to risk it. He has no doubt he'd have escaped if he was on his own, but he hadn't been sure he could make it to her before someone got a shot off and that is something he never wants to risk.

The tie on his ankles is next and then he's free. The room is small and dark – lit dimly by the tiny window near the ceiling. A basement of some sort given the earthen floor and the door set about two and half feet up the wall – whatever stairs that were there are missing – and there's no furniture at all.

He kneels beside Felicity, who has managed to wriggle herself into a sitting position with her feet tucked under her and being supported at an odd angle by her bound hands. When he reaches for her blindfold she flinches as his hand brushes her temple. He draws back a for a moment. “Hey. Easy. It's just me.” She nods and holds still as he takes the blindfold off.

She frowns in response to the smile he plasters on his face. But he props her up and helps her out of the ties and makes a mental note so that either he or Dig can teach her how to escape herself. 

He tries not let it bother him that she has to learn at all.

“This is really bad.” She starts massaging her wrists and ankles once she's free and he's unsettled when he sees her skin rubbed raw, but he doesn't say anything, simply offering her a hand stand up.

“Barely,” he says to hide just how concerned he is about the situation.

Felicity's eyebrows give a sceptical lift.

“Diggle knows where we are.”

“Even he can't cut through an army of mooks.” She wraps her arms around herself and hunches her shoulders but whether from anxiety or the chill in the air, he's not sure.

“It's going to be fine.” He shrugs out of his blazer and wraps it around her shoulders.It's not much but considering the abbreviated dress she's wearing it should help a little.

“How very old fashioned of you.”

He shrugs it off. “You need it more than me.”

He can feel the cool dampness which likely comes from the bare floor and concrete walls seeping through his light cotton shirt but it is still degrees warmer than anything that's going to bother him. Though the weather forecast is for snow tonight so it's likely to drop a good deal colder.

“What about you?” She's pulled the jacket around herself but she's still pale and hunched in on herself.

“I'm fine. I've survived worse.” He turns away from her look to examine the door better.

He knows the expression well, after a while, he's seen most people he knows wear that expression. The one that says, 'how much do I ask about the island?' the one that seems to think he's as fragile as glass and twice as transparent. The one that reminds him that no matter how hard he tries, he's not normal and people can see that.

Ultimately it's always easier to pretend he doesn't see it than acknowledge it. Especially as it feels at times as though doing so will open doors that he can't close, let things out that terrify even himself. So solving the problem of escape is a much better choice than addressing whatever Felicity's thinking.

He's not getting through the door. It's heavy and metal and designed not to let anyone through unless they have the code that is entered on the other side. The height means that even if it weren't quite as sturdy he'd have difficulty breaking through it. This room has almost certainly been used to keep people in before and he's grateful that a cursory sweep of the room reveals they are alone and there's no remains of whoever was here last.

The single window is too narrow even for someone as slender as Felicity to slip through – that is if he was willing to risk her getting past whatever security has been placed out there and expose her too the freezing cold air. They're too far outside of town for her to run in that dress and those shoes.

“There's no way out, is there?” Felicity is still standing in the same spot, but is no longer hunched over or fearful. Instead she's looking around the room with intent, still nervous, anxious, but he can see some of the strength he admires in her starting to come to the fore. “I mean, of course there isn't, if there was you'd already have found it and we'd be out of here, possibly leaving some bad guys bleeding for the cops to find or worse...” she trails off blinking.

He finds himself relieved to here the return of the babbling. He's also the usual mix of disturbed and amused with the way she seems to perceive him.

“We're going to be fine, Felicity.”

“'You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.'” He stares. “Oh come on, even you should know that one.” She sighs. “Nevermind. You just have a really weird sense of 'fine'.”

He doesn't really have an answer for that, he supposes his idea of 'fine' is probably very weird even to someone like Felicity.

He spends several minutes re-examining the door and window. After slipping her arms through his jacket, she does the same – though he sure it's more about keeping busy than because she actually thinks she'll be able to do anything. To be honest, he's mostly checking to keep busy as well.

“What do you think they'll do to us?” She's trying to stay casual, but her eyes are wide and he sees her shiver, her bravado from a few minutes ago slipping away again as she has time to think.

“Hopefully Diggle will get here first.” He doesn't want her thinking about possible 'what ifs'. Because he is determined that nothing – worse – will happen to her, but things do have the potential to get ugly very quickly.

“But...”

“What did I say?”

“But...”

He gives the kind of look he might give Thea in this situation – not that he plans on Thea ever being in any kind of situation that even vaguely resembles this one. Ever. At all. Ever.

Felicity huffs. “Fine.” He nods and she turns back to the window, trying to get a good look out of it. “When fine means locked in a cell by the bad guys,” she mutters under her breath just loud enough for him to hear.

The truth is this room is not meant for long habitation. There's no running water or facilities but the room is relatively clean despite being dark and dank. Lack of furniture or any kind of insulation means that you run the risk of exposure. All of means that either it's a place to leave people until they die, which is an inefficient way of killing people, or it's used as a holding cell until they decide what to do with the captives.

And in the case of himself and Felicity that is concerning. The two of them were caught snooping, meaning that interrogation or torture is a possibility and that is the last thing to which he wants her exposed. Oliver's also worth a fair amount in ransom, he supposes, but she is not and that is another disturbing thought. He pushes them to one side and focuses on Felicity.

“I don't like that look,” she says. He's not entirely sure, but he thinks he might hear a quaver in her voice.

“What look?”

“The one that says we're screwed.” The wobble is definitely there this time. It's too dark to tell but he thinks her eyes might be wet.

In two strides he's in front of her. Gently he cups her elbows, from where her arms are wrapped around herself. He's disturbed to find little heat coming off her body and she's shivering. Oliver and hypothermia are old friends, he can recognise the warning signs. “Hey. It's going to be–”

“Don't say it.” She warns. 

“Diggle was watching us on the feed you set up. He was talking to us right up until they took the ear pieces away.” Concerned about her lowered body heat, he pulls her closer to him, she doesn't resist.

“That would be comforting if I thought he could get to us.” She's almost burrowing into him which tells him just how cold she really must be feeling. “Sorry.” She goes to pull back, but he tightens his arm around her, he's cold enough that the traces of heat left in her are just as important to him as they are to her. “It's just really cold and you're not.”

Eventually even he won't be able to retain any warmth. Severe hypothermia is a long way away, and given they're both healthy adults it's not likely to kill them overnight, but if someone doesn't come for them it's going to be unpleasant.

Outside it is now fully dark and that leaves very little light and even with Felicity pressed against him he can only just make out the shape of her. But despite the way she is shivering, he is very aware of her and everywhere she's touching him, which is not what he wants to be thinking right now.

“Come on,” he says and is relieved that his voice is normal.

He leads them both over to the wall beside the door and pulls her down with him so she's leaning against him, his arm around her waist, tucking her head under his chin. It's the most defensible place in the room as whoever comes for them will almost certainly check across and out from themself before checking down and to the right. Which is good because it will give him a chance to disentangle himself from Felicity before he attacks their captors.

For maybe half a second he considers, pulling her into his lap, and wrapping himself around her which would be the best way to share body heat. But it would so far beyond appropriate it's not even funny and neither of them are in nearly enough danger to justify it. No matter how nice it would feel.

“This is nice.” Felicity unconsciously echoes his own thoughts but he's glad that she's calmed again. “In a completely platonic, 'just friends' way. Or it would be nice if we weren't locked in a cell facing certain death. The hugging not the 'just friends' thing, because we are friends...”

He ignores the rambling and addresses the important part. “We're not going to die.”

“So you keep saying. I'm not so sure.”

He's not entirely sure why he does it. If asked he'll put it down to irrational behaviour which is a symptom of hypothermia and deny that it was brought on by the fact he has a beautiful woman in his arms. But he drops a kiss on the top of her head.

It shouldn't be a big deal, just gesture of comfort between friends: but they're not exactly friends (or not just friends, despite her babbling). She stiffens and hisses, but otherwise doesn't react for a long moment.

Sooner or later he's not going to be able to ignore the crush he's aware she has on him. Of course the longer he waits the less he wants to ignore it and the more he wants to act on it. A beautiful woman who's attracted to him is very much a turn on – and something that's got him in a lot of trouble in the past. Which is reason number one he shouldn't let anything happen between them. She doesn't need the kind of trouble that he had knocking on his door even before he ended up on the island.

Not to mention that she's whole and sweet and funny and kind and smart. He is damaged goods, twisted and broken. She deserves someone better than him, someone whole.

Of course, he's also her boss and that is a really bad way to start any relationship other than the strictly professional.

But when she tilts her head to look up at him, there's just enough light to see the slight parting of her lips. That's all it takes to forget all the reasons he's just listed in his head and drop his mouth to hers.

She really does startle at first, but before he can pull away, she's kissing him back. She's the one who deepens it, and he's at first he's disturbed and then aroused at the sensation between cold lips and warm mouth. She balances one hand against his shoulder and pushes herself up a little, giving her better access, cupping the back of his neck with her other hand. Meanwhile he traces a hand up her thigh and under her dress to rest against her hip.

She shivers and he breaks the kiss but doesn't move away. As close as they are he can't miss the way her eyes are fixed on his, or how quick her breath has become.

When she leans in to kiss him he pulls back with reluctance. “This is not the time or place.”

“You kissed me first.” She detaches herself from him and scoots out of his reach. And he regrets the loss of warmth immediately, the cool air sneaking in to steal away her heat.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.” But he's having trouble trying to remember why.

“Here or at all?”

“What?”

“You shouldn't have kissed me here. Or you shouldn't have kissed me at all?”

He opens his mouth to respond but before he can even think about what he's going to say the door swings open flooding the room with light. Despite being nearly blinded, he's on his feet in seconds, standing in front of Felicity who is struggling to stand.

At first he thinks his eyes must be deceiving him because the last person he'd expect to see in the door is the one standing there. “Queen?” Detective Lance just stares at him and all Oliver can do is stare back. Felicity comes to stand by his elbow.

“Detective? What are you doing here?” But he's already moving Felicity over to the door and passing her up to Lance and Hilton then climbing up himself.

“Your bodyguard called and said you'd gone missing.”

Oliver has to wonder exactly how Diggle managed to get the police to follow that one up: neither of them have been missing long enough for there to be a search and Oliver does have a reputation for slipping his bodyguard even if it's been a long while since he has done so. It's a story he's going to look forward to hearing when they're away from prying ears.

“Are you two all right?” Detective Hilton has always been largely unreadable but there seems to be a note of concern in his voice.

Oliver looks Felicity up and down; she's dusty and shivering, a smear of dirt down one cheek and her hair dishevelled. He has no doubt he looks similar but they're both largely unhurt – aside from the cold that has set in and doesn't seem to be abating even in the heat of the hall.

“Just mild hypothermia.” Felicity is pale, hunched and shivering. She hasn't said a word since the door opened.

When a uniform is assigned to lead them out to the paramedics, he puts a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs him off. His jaw tightens but he doesn't press the issue. Not here. Not in public.

On the way out they pass several small groups of cops. “What's going on here?” she asks out loud but nobody answers her.

As they reach the front door, Oliver can't help but hope that his mother hasn't been told. He doesn't want her to have had to worry about him on top of Walter. But to his relief the only people waiting for them is Diggle and the paramedics – who with one look at Felicity immediately wrap the two of them in blankets. 

“Glad you're both all right.” Diggle's voice is quiet, is expression serious.

“What's going on?” Felicity asks again. She's being kept busy trying not to let them hustle her into a stretcher to take a trip to hospital, her body temperature is low, but not so low to need medical treatment. Oliver suspects they're being overly cautious in wanting to have her checked out fully. “I'm fine.” She pulls the blanket tighter around her – she still has Oliver's jacket on as well – but hops out of the ambulance.

“Long story.” Diggle's terse answer is enough to keep Oliver from questioning further. He wants to know what's going on but suspects there is a reason why his friend is keeping quiet on the details in front of an audience.

“But...” Diggle's look from behind the paramedic is enough to silence Felicity as well.

“If I promise that we're going to go and get warmed up will you let us go?” The short woman trying to take his temperature scowls but given that neither he nor Felicity are shaking anymore and the colour has returned to her cheeks there's no reason to keep them.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Diggle asks them both.

Felicity opens her mouth to respond, but Oliver gets in first. “Actually, if my car is still here–” he waits for Diggle's nod– “I can drive Felicity home myself.”

Felicity's brows pull downward and Diggle's eyes flick between them but neither of them openly challenge him on it. “If you say so.” Diggle shrugs, gives Felicity one last long look and heads off to let the cops know they are all leaving.

Oliver doubts that this is the last he'll hear of the situation from the authorities but hopefully no one will come looking for him or Felicity before the morning. Which is not to say the two of them will be together come morning. Just that both of them need some space and air before talking to the police.

He turns his car's air con. up as high as it will go to try and blast away some of the lingering cold. Felicity's is still wrapped tightly in the blanket that she's been left with, but he's given his back and he can feel the bite of the promised snow though he's surrounded by warm air.

**//**

“That's a really bad place to keep your key.” Felicity glares over her shoulder at him as she unlocks her apartment door.

“If it wasn't there I wouldn't be able to get in – they took my bag, remember?” He doesn't point out that he could have broken in for her, most because he's too busy ignoring the unspoken 'why are you still here?' in her voice.

Truthfully he's not sure why he's still following her, but when she got out of the car he felt an unexpected bout of concern. He doesn't want to leave her alone, not after what she's just been through. Not mention there is the the little matter of the question she asked and he left unanswered.

“I'm going to have a shower.” She drops the blanket that she has been clutching around her to the floor and shrugs out of his jacket. She shivers as the air hits her skin and he's reminded at how much skin the dress actually reveals. “You can let yourself out.”

A fool would hear the 'get lost', but he doesn't move when she goes through her bedroom to the bathroom. He feels guilty at not leaving when she's handed him such a clear message, but despite the firm scolding he's getting from his conscience there's something much stronger telling him to stay.

He listens to the water run as he examines the main room of her apartment. He's been here before, but only to scout out the area, entrances and exits just in case he ever needs them. He knows the floor plan but he's never been inside. Both the kitchen and living areas are neat, except for a bowl and cup in her sink and a handful of dvds scattered across the coffee table. The decorating is bright and warm but not garish and there is a selection of odd knick knacks placed on various surfaces around the room.

All in all the space is very much 'Felicity'.

The water turns off and he tells himself that this is his last chance to leave.

He doesn't move.

When she comes out into the main room he's still standing in the same place that he was when she left. She jumps and lets out a yelp when she sees him. “You're still here.Why are you still here?...I mean...I don't know what I mean.” She lets out a noisy breath. “Why are you still here?”

Her fingers tug at the hem of what he assumes is her pyjama top. She's in pink and white with the slogan 'Don't Forget To Be Awesome' blazoned across it, her slippers and the hot water bottle tucked under her arm match. She seems less hostile than earlier but he's not sure if that's a good thing.

And this, right here is his very last chance to leave. He could make up an excuse about making sure she's all right, call it a night and then put away his feelings until they're both feeling more rational. Or better yet, forget about them altogether.

But he doesn't move. “You asked me a question earlier.”

“And you didn't answer me. I figure it was Oliver Queen for 'let's pretend this never happened'.” Her eyes are on his face and she seems to be looking for something.

Considering he had been contemplating doing just that, he supposes he can't blame her for making the assumption. Even now he can't quite find the words he's looking for and longer he waits the more on edge Felicity seems to become.

“Are you actually going to say something or is this just another way to torment me?” She folds her arms across her chest, but the action is more defensive than angry.

“I don't want to torment you, Felicity.” She shakes her head but before she can answer he continues. “That cell was a bad time and place for anything.” He takes a deep breath. “I probably should have found a better one.” The words are out and he can't take them back. Now he has to wait on her.

She nods slowly, rocking back on her heels. Then she heads for him with purposeful steps. He hopes it's not to give him the slap he deserves. She stops in front of him and reaches for him, but pauses halfway through the motion. “Is this real? It feels like I might be hallucinating.”

“It's real.” He reaches out for her hands but as soon as he makes contact she flinches back.

“Oliver! Your hands are frozen.” She presses the backs of her fingers to his cheek. “You're still cold.” She's not, he notices. But then he'd barely noticed that he was, so he's not sure what that means.

But he doesn't have time to think about what it means because before he knows it he's wrapped up in her discarded blanket on her couch while she's fixing him a hot drink. He's not certain what just happened but whatever it is, doesn't resemble what his brain had been feeding him minutes before.

All the while she's scolding him for not trying to warm up and when he points out he'd felt fine it just makes her lecture worse because apparently he doesn't take enough care of himself and one day he's going to be dead before he knows it. He's certain she's right on that last point but not in the way she means.

“Here.” She hands him the steaming mug and kneels on the couch beside him, but doesn't touch.

“What about you?” She's tucked the hot water bottle in beside him so he's worried she's not getting enough heat.

“I'm fine.”

He lifts his eyebrows at her word choice.

“Turns out you were right. Don't let it go to your head.” But she can't hide her smile for long, until she shivers that is and then she scowls and pulls at the sleeves of her undershirt, tugging them over her wrists.

“Hey.” He opens the blanket. “Hop in.”

“Really? That's the line you're going with?” But she's already curling up next to him, similar to the way she had in the cell.

He welcomes how their new positions warm him but have little to do with her own temperature and everything to do with her. She presses a kiss to his cheek, soft and chaste, not too dissimilar to the one he'd dropped on her head earlier and with the same intent.

When he places his mug on the coffee table it bangs sharply but he's more interested in turning to her. Looking down he catches sight of her lips. He hears her quick intake of breath and that's all the encouragement he needs so he gives in and kisses her. It's impossibly sweet and only just touches on the surface of what he's feeling, but considering how many boundaries he's overstepped tonight he's not willing to take this any further than she wants.

The kiss breaks naturally, but they don't pull very far apart, Felicity's eyes remain close which allows him a moment to study her up close. “Are you sure I'm not hallucinating?” she asks.

“If you are, so am I.”

“That's not very comforting.”

He leans in and kisses her again, this time it heats up quickly. He no longer feels the slightest trace of cold, not with the way his blood is pumping through him.

“Or maybe I don't care.” They're both breathing hard now and he barely pauses as he kisses her yet again, sliding a hand along her waist and slipping under her top to rest splayed against her back. Without pulling away she shifts so she's sitting astride his lap.

A crash interrupts them. 

They both jump in surprise and wheel around to find his mug has tipped over, spilling dark liquid all over the coffee table, dvds and carpet. She swears and is over in the kitchen in the blink of an eye. He doubts he'd be able to move that fast if he needed to and certainly not if he's as drunk on her as he is now.

She's back over almost as quickly, wielding a tea towel and is mopping up the spill. As he leaves over to rescue the dvds, she blinks up at him. “Uh, maybe we should give this a break? Appropriate times and all. Talk tomorrow when we're not all–” she flicks the wet cloth at him in lieu of actually finishing the sentence.

He nods but licks his lips watching as her eyes follow the path of his tongue. If she asked he'd stay the night here with her and he wonders if he asked whether or not she'd let him stay here with her. But there's some apprehension in the way she's holding herself so he lets the matter drop.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, but kisses her anyway.

But she's smarter than him and somehow she organises him to the door, offers him one last kiss and then shuts him out.

“Tomorrow,” he calls through the door and hopes she hears him. He leaves, smiling, lighter than he's felt in a while.

**//**

**Author's Note:**

> Felicity's pyjamas exist! I chose them because she quotes The Lizzie Bennet Diaries in a tie-in comic (issue #24).  
> The pyjamas can be found here: http://www.cafepress.com/+be_awesome_womens_light_pajamas,738555199  
> And the tie in comic here: http://www.readdcentertainment.com/Arrow-2012-24/digital-comic/37848


End file.
